


5:03 AM, A Deserted B-Line Train Station

by turn_turn_turn



Series: Um, Hello - A Meet-Cute AU Series [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Meet-Cute, bad jokes as flirting, but that's what flirting is essentially right?, if not it might explain some stuff about the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turn_turn_turn/pseuds/turn_turn_turn
Summary: There's a man standing directly across from him on the opposite platform, and he's staring straight at Steve with a huge grin on his face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Meet-cute premise: I'm Uncoordinated, you're Entertained. 
> 
> The start of a very silly project that has lined up fortuitously with #softstuckyweek2016! All fluff and nothing but the fluff, so help me Santa.

Steve is grumbling disconsolately under his breath as he shuffles down the subway steps from the still-dark, empty street.   

He's got a conference call with a design firm in Hamburg this morning, which means getting to the office by 6:00 AM, which means getting on the subway by the ass-crack of dawn. On a Saturday. In November. And Steve doesn't want to whine, but the ass-crack of Saturday's dawn in November is fucking _freezing_.   

He's wearing his puffy down coat and his favorite scarf, and though his beard is keeping his chin warm he'd forgotten his beanie in his rush and the rest of his head feels like it's frosted over.   

The station is surprisingly devoid of bustle for a weekend morning, even given the early hour; Steve's platform is empty save for one tiny, elderly woman with a wire push-cart, her fuzzy-capped head nodding off into the front of her enormous parka. Steve can sympathize.   

It's too early. And cold. And _early_.   

He wanders drowsily over to a spot by a support beam and tries to curl his entire body around the little paper cup of coffee he'd snagged from a stand just outside the station's entrance, shivering and feeling sorry for himself.   

After a few minutes of eerie empty-public-space silence he goes to check his wristwatch for the time, pulling his right hand out of his pocket to push the opposite sleeve up. In doing so, however, he forgets about the steaming coffee in his left hand, and the gesture causes him to upend the cup, dousing his  arm in fragrant, warm wetness.   

"Shit!" He quickly tries to shake out his sleeve, wincing as the saturated nylon rapidly cools and leaves his skin feeling unpleasantly clammy. "Ugh, fuckin' fuck."   

Giving up the arm waving as a failed attempt, he opts to hold his sodden, chilled arm slightly and awkwardly away from his torso, like a bird with a broken wing, and _man_ , he really is just as dramatic as Peggy's always accusing him of being.   

He flicks his eyes anxiously around the station, hoping his characteristic clumsiness hadn't had an audience this time, as that would just be slathering an extra layer of shame-icing on this morning's already no good, very bad ca-  

 _Shit._  

There's a man standing directly across from him on the opposite platform, and he's staring straight at Steve with a huge grin on his face.   

Steve groans internally.  

One arm of the man's navy peacoat is empty and neatly pinned to his side, but he brings his other forearm up to cover his eyes briefly before pulling it down again, still grinning.   

"I didn’t see anything," the man calls, in a deep voice that carries easily through the still air of the station.  

Steve feels heat rise into his cheeks. "Well, that's good," he calls back, voice slightly strained even to his own ears. "Otherwise I'd have to be deeply mortified."   

Steve takes quick stock of his gleeful spectator: the guy is fairly tall, with dark hair pulled up into either a stubby ponytail or a small bun - Steve can't make it out fully from this distance. He's wearing a fingerless glove on his right hand, has a massive set of headphones pulled down to rest against the collar of his coat, and there's a wheeled travel bag standing at his side, an empty cup holder clipped to the tall handle.   

The man's smile widens. "Yeah, no worries – didn't see a thing. Not one _hilarious_ thing." He pauses to take a sip out of the silver thermos in his hand. "In fact I'm actually ah, a ghost. So technically you're alone - it's like nothing happened," he assures, shrugging his broad shoulders affably.  

Steve feels the corners of his own mouth turn up. 

"Phew," he wipes his brow in mock relief. Something about the man's pleasant, unguarded expression - or possibly the fact that the pleasant, unguarded expression is bracketed by a seriously chiseled jawline - makes Steve want to further the conversation. "So why a subway platform?" he asks. "Seems like a pretty dull haunt."   

The man puts on a comical scowl and directs it down the empty, echoing tunnel, then toward his own wristwatch."Maybe I've got unfinished business with the MTA," he grumbles.   

"Don't we all," Steve chuckles, watching the man pick his sly smile back up. His teeth are ver _y_ white. Steve prods again, "And you're sure you aren't going to tell all the other commuters about that thing you definitely didn't see?"  

The man shakes his head slowly. "Nah, man, it's against ghost-protocol. Not allowed to gossip with the living – especially not about amusing beverage incidents. There's a very specific rule. Besides, we don't generally chat with the living at all - too easily spooked."   

"Yeah, well what's this then?" Steve gestures between them with his empty paper cup. "Am I an exception to the rule?"  

And that's when Steve realizes he is actively attempting to flirt with a complete stranger across a subway station at 5:15 in the goddamn morning.   

What.

The man hesitates for only a second before he clears his throat and replies, "I'm considering saying 'maybe I've just got unfinished business with _you_ , too,' but I feel like that would be even more embarrassing than your little coffee-bath. So I won't." A grimace makes his eyes crinkle up.  

Steve can't help the grin that splits his face."Yeah, I think you'd better not. Man, we've both had some close calls with humiliation this morning - good thing we've managed to dodge it so gracefully."  

The man flashes his teeth again, disarmingly charming even at this distance. "It's still early," he declares, and Steve might not be able to _see_ a wink from this far away, but he can hear one plainly in the man's tone.   

"Are you flirting with me?" Steve questions, the hope clear in his own voice.  

The man shoots a wolfish grin across the empty air of the tunnel, staying quiet.   

Encouraged, Steve teases,"It's not even six AM."  

The man holds up his travel mug in a lazy salute. "Those of us that choose to _drink_ our coffee instead of applying it topically manage to benefit from its revivifying effects that much quicker - you should try it, next cup."  

"Smartass," Steve snorts, while admitting to himself that there's probably something to that argument, as _his_ brain certainly isn't coming out with words like 'revivify' this early in the day.  

"So you got a name to give me?" the man asks, raising an eyebrow. "It'll help me narrow down which TV set to crawl out of."  

"That's a poltergeist, not a ghost."  

"Know-it-all. And I think poltergeists are technically a _type_ of ghost – so there."  

"Well, regardless, I don't know what passes for love in the supernatural world, but I'm gunna give a hard pass to manifesting via household appliances as a romantic gesture. Less heart-warming and more heart-attack-inducing, I think." Steve takes a deep breath, then adds, "And it's Steve, Steve Rogers."  

The man's smile expands another inch. "Noted. But I think you are missing the excitement potential of an angioplasty as a first date activity, Steve Rogers." He take another long drink from his mug. "So, what, you got a pottery studio I could haunt instead? That could be a bit more subtle and tender."  

Steve lets out a bark of delighted laughter. "You AREflirting with me!"  

"Well, Steve, I'm tryin' to," the man grouses, and Steve can see the whites flash as he rolls his eyes. "Do you want me to stop?" he adds, and though his voice is casual Steve catches the hesitance in it, hinting at concern that his attention is unwanted.   

"No," Steve admits, burying his grin in his coffee cup.  

Steve can’t tell from this distance if the man is blushing, but the line of his mouth is softer now, his smile more intimate, and Steve can feel the blood rush to his own cheeks in response.   

Suddenly there's a rumble in the distance, and both Steve and the man glance down their respective tunnels to find that their trains are arriving almost simultaneously.   

"Ah, well – like ships in the night, huh?" the man shouts, his smile turning rueful.   

"Or trains in the morning, I suppose," Steve calls back, mirroring the man's look.   

"See, our love story is already so poetic!" And the guy – Steve kicks himself for not managing to get his name while he had the chance - has to yell now to be heard above the dual roar of the approaching trains.   

"It's still early!" Steve shouts, and the two of them manage to share one last grin in the split second before the trains pull in and cut them both off from view.   

  

 

\---  

 

  

 **A few hours later...**   

  

That afternoon Steve is in the break room, trying not to doze off into his bowl of pasta salad, when his phone buzzes with a Facebook notification.   

Steve slides the lock screen and clicks into the app. He stares at the message for a puzzled moment before it sinks in, then gives a gleeful little shout that startles Sharon into flicking a cherry tomato off the end of her fork and sending it bouncing down the staff table. Steve's sure he'll be embarrassed about that later, but for now he can't muster anything but excitement.   

Sharon will probably forgive him anyway, once he tells her the story.   

  

 **Friend Request from** **James** **B.** **Barnes**   

 **Attached message:**    

Boo _._ :) 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What is it with me and writing these train-oriented meet-cutes? Oh lord, is public transportation my kink?? You'd think someone who grew up riding the MBTA would have absolutely ZERO romantic notions about subway commuting, but here we are again.
> 
> This is my take on "He's a ghost story" except, you know, infinitely less depressing. 
> 
> So this is the start of an eight part Meet-Cute AU series - I'll be posting one a day for the next week, plus an extra, extra-festive Christmas Eve/first day of Hanukkah installment. HECK YES! The spirit of the season compels me!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, my dudes!!! 
> 
> OH and I am also very, very new to the tumbling thing - come say hey at tern-tern-tern.tumblr.com!


End file.
